The Heart & Mind

Chapter 1

My morning started off bad.

Okay, I want to get something straight before I actually say anything else. My name is Cynthalia Nickelson. I am a 21-year-old doctor studying the psychological diseases of the brain. I specialize mainly on insanity and amnesia. I'm... well, not to brag, pretty good at what I do. But I only do it to help people.

Anyway, my morning alarm went off as usual at its typical 4:30 am routine (ugh, why do I have to get to work early?). Immediately, a smell of rotten eggs fills my nostrils, and I almost fall back to sleep. I find that my hair and pillow are wet, and I vehemently scream my cat's name.

"SNOWBALL!" I shriek. "Did you pee in my hair AGAIN?!"

Where is that fluffy little bastard? I think to myself. I look around my room, hoping to find and choke the furball.

"Ugh, this is soooo gross. How did you even get in...?"

I eventually get up and head straight into the shower, not even minding that I've still got my nightdress on. My bright-red hair was soaked from Snowball's mess.

Oh, yes, I have red hair. I forgot to mention that. It's slightly straight and slightly curvy at the same time, and has a sort of accustomed shine to it, no matter what brand of shampoo I use. And before you ask: no, I didn't dye it. It's actually my natural color, something that's baffled a lot of family doctors. I've grown attached to it to be honest. When my parents had asked me if I'd wanted to change it, I refused; I liked the way it was.

So after a thorough washing of my hair, I stepped out to have another instance of bad luck: I'd forgotten to do the laundry. And I had no clothes left.

"Oh, gods," I muttered. "You've got to be kidding me. Is it Monday, or something?"

My next mistake: running while wet. As soon as I exit the bathroom, I fall face-first onto the ground.

"Oooof---"

I frisk my nose with my hand and immediately feel something sticky - it was bleeding.

"Gods, of ALL the days...!"

I rush to get my nose fixed. Being a doctor, even for that of psychology, I had to learn basic healing techniques, such as cleaning a wound properly and, in this case, mending a nose. Also, I get yearly First Aid supplies from the clinics - being a doctor has its privileges.

When I finally get my nose cleaned (tissues stuffed in my nose, ugh), I head to my pile of "relatively clean" clothing - basically anything that didn't smell or have any stains on them.

Just then, Snowball walks in, his posture pompous. I know animals don't have many facial expressions, but his seemed to show pride, like he'd achieved his lifelong dream that he'd made minutes ago.

"Hey, you little jackass," I say. "You proud of yourself, huh?"

He ignores me and starts licking his private area.

"Yeah, screw you too." I turn back to scavenging.

After what seems like hours, I finally find a pair of not-too-smelly pants and a blue blouse. The blouse had a stain on the back, but it was something that could easily be covered by my doctors' coat.

Well, I think. It can't get any worse, can it?

I stand up and take a step, instantly skidding on something sticky and falling backward, and I hit my head - I'm out cold.